Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1221: We’ll Get Married When You’re Well

Chapter 1221: Chapter 1221: We’ll Get Married When You’re Well

She left.

At this moment, a soft and weak voice sounded in his ears, "Mort."

Mort Thorne froze completely. He quickly lowered his gaze. Dianna Hollis hadn’t opened her eyes, but her long, butterfly-wing-like lashes were trembling, moving.

Drip, a scalding tear fell onto her small face.

Dianna slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. She suddenly saw the man’s tears streaming down his face.

She was startled, quickly curled her lips. The girl’s soft voice carried a slight coquettishness and joy, "Fool, I wasn’t asleep. Although my body hurts so much, I wanted to close my eyes and sleep for a while, so it wouldn’t hurt, but I still didn’t sleep because... I’m reluctant."

Saying this, she raised her small hand, her soft fingertips slowly tracing the weathered contours of his handsome face, lovingly, longingly, "I can’t bear to sleep, I’m afraid, I’m afraid if I fall asleep, what will my Mort do?"

If she sleeps, what will her Mort do?

Her Mort was like a warrior, battling alone for far too long through the endless night. He brought dawn for many, too many people, yet he could only stand in the darkness, be a shadow, become a story untold.

He hesitated so much before his own happiness, the nation and she were at the two ends of his palms, and he always put himself last.

If she sleeps, who will love him in the future?

Leave him alone in this world, how could she bear it?

Now her whole body hurt, hurt to the point of trembling, numbness, but she told herself, Dianna, hold on a little longer, for Mort Thorne.

Mort Thorne curled his thin lips, revealing a tender smile through his tears, hot tears falling onto her small face. He extended his big hand to wipe them away, until she had a little kitten face.

With a hoarse voice, he said, "Dianna, when you get better, we’ll get married. In the future, our home listens to you, whether big or small matters, you decide, and so do I, I’ll let you decide."

Dianna softly brushed over his parched lips, "Then it’s settled. You’re not allowed to go back on your word. From now on, I’m the boss."

Mort Thorne nodded, nodded vigorously, the neon lights outside the window gliding through the car window onto his neat short hair, gilding him, "Mm, okay!"

...

In the hospital.

Dianna was wheeled into the operating room. Mort Thorne also wanted to rush in, but the doctor stopped him, "Sir, please stay outside."

Mort Thorne quickly reached out and grabbed the doctor’s arm.

The man’s grip was strong, with a light tug, the doctor was already in pain and his face turned pale, coupled with Mort Thorne’s tall and imposing aura, the doctor was frightened to stuttering, "M-Mister, y-you, what do you want to do?"

Mort Thorne looked at the operating room door in front of him, "You must save her, absolutely!"

The doctor went in, and the operating room door slammed shut with a bang, glowing with a glaring red light. Mort Thorne stood in the corridor, his broad back against the wall, hands in his pockets, one knee bent, the fine fringe on his forehead covering his dark eyes, so quiet there was no sound at all.

He was waiting.

The only thing he could do was wait.

The surgery lasted a full twelve hours. Nurses came in and out, carrying six bags of plasma, the cold frosty night outside gradually dissipating, giving way to another dawn.

At this moment, with a click, the operating room door opened, and a weary doctor walked out.

Mort Thorne quickly stepped forward. His thin lips were so dry they were peeling, "How is she?"

The doctor took off his mask, nodded with relief, "Sir, the surgery was very successful. The patient’s vitality was too tenacious. I’ve treated so many people, but anyone else who had seven or eight stab wounds would’ve died, but the patient kept holding on, she wants to live, she’s a miracle."

At this moment, a nurse pushed Dianna out. She had changed out of her bloody clothes and wore a large blue and white striped hospital gown, her face pale to near transparency, the small blue veins visible under her soft, fine hair. She lay on the pillow, sleeping, looking pitiful and endearing.

Mort Thorne stood by the bed, looking down at her. His heart had never felt this soft.

He held her cool little hand, calling in a low, husky voice, "Dianna."

His Dianna.

If only he could, he wanted to merge her into his very being.

...

Dianna was wheeled into the ICU, and Mort Thorne and Charles Bishop were talking at the corridor entrance.

"Mort, Scorpion is dead, all the remaining forces have been eradicated clean. This case once again intimidated all international crime forces, almost making everyone tremble at the sound, but this time all the credit went to Paul. Paul is known throughout the police precincts, two days later the bosses are going to promote him, and I’ve heard the general’s daughter Melissa has accepted Paul’s pursuit, now everyone’s congratulating them. They’re under the halo of glory, and it’s become quite a tale."

Charles Bishop was very upset, as Paul didn’t have much capability. Solving the Scorpion case was entirely up to Mort Thorne and Dianna, now Dianna hadn’t even escaped danger, and outside they were already holding a celebration feast. Everyone was deceived.

The hospital was desolate, yet Paul and Melissa were enjoying their success.

Mort Thorne didn’t show any expression; he had stayed in the hospital and hadn’t even changed his clothes, now full of wrinkles. He slightly curled his thin lips, "Got it."

Then he turned and left.

"Mort!" Charles Bishop called from behind, "I know you don’t care about these vanities, but you should step out of the darkness, into the light. You should let everyone see, oh, so this is Blood Eagle, Mort Thorne is Blood Eagle!"

Mort Thorne wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Mort Thorne paused slightly, his voice low, "Find some time to visit Wade’s parents. The one who killed Wade is dead."

After speaking, Mort Thorne left.

Looking at the man’s tall and robust back, Charles Bishop sighed.

...

At night, Dianna hadn’t woken up yet, but all her vitals were stable. Mort Thorne used a towel to wipe her little face, then sat by the bed, holding her slightly cool little hand and kissed it.

He wasn’t satisfied with just that. He got up again, kissed her forehead.

He fell asleep on the edge of the bed.

Soon, the silent hospital room was suddenly filled with the vibrating sound of a phone. Mort Thorne opened his eyes. He hadn’t slept long, two sleepless nights causing red blood vessels to spread in his dark eye sockets. He picked up his phone with a rough big hand and glanced at it; it was a call from Melissa.

Mort Thorne didn’t even furrow his brow, directly hung up the call.

He refused to answer.

Just then, a "ding" sounded, and a text message from Melissa came, a photo.

The photo was at a grand celebration party, she stood under the dazzling lights, surrounded by everyone, stars arched around the moon.